"I.. Gotta go. It's getting darker and my dad told me to not be late. It was lovely meeting you, Vincent" she said quietly with a hint of warmth and a beautiful smile.
The moment she smiled, Vincent almost forgot why he was here.
Almost.
Her voice was soft when she said goodbye, her footsteps fading against the gravel path. She didn't look back.
Good.
He didn't need her remembering his face too clearly.
From the shadows near the trees, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Confident. The faint glow of a cigarette lit the sharp angles of his face.
Alerk.
"You got close?" he asked, voice low.
Vincent's jaw tightened. "Close enough."
Alerk exhaled smoke, watching it curl into the cold air. "Damon Stallone's daughter. Sweet little thing, isn't she?"
Vincent didn't answer.
"You'll be her shadow soon. She won't even see it coming."
Vincent stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the dark surface of the lake.
Alerk's tone sharpened.
"Damon Stallone took everything from me, Vincent. Everything. I can't touch him yet—too many eyes, too much security. But her?" He flicked the cigarette into the water. "She's the crack in his armor."
Vincent's lip curled faintly. "You're going after his daughter to hurt him."
"To destroy him," Alerk corrected. "He loves her. She's the only clean thing in his filthy life. Once she's gone, he'll break. And when he's broken, I'll finish him."
The silence between them was heavy. Vincent didn't flinch under Alerk's stare.
"When?"
"Soon. I'll arrange an 'incident.' Some hired punks will try to grab her—make it public enough that Damon gets paranoid. Then you step in like a hero. She'll trust you, keep you close. And when I say it's time, you end her."
Vincent's jaw flexed, but he nodded. "Fine."
Alerk's grin was slow and sharp. "That's why I keep you around, Vincent. No questions. Just results."
---
Later that night
Vincent leaned against the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, the city lights bleeding into the horizon. He told himself it was just another job.
He'd done worse for less.
But for some reason, her smile from earlier kept replaying in his head.
He crushed the cigarette under his boot.
No attachments.
No hesitations.